The story of Africa's Child

Africa's Child - a poem and a painting

The air brush painting adjacent to this text was created by Corrie Maritz. To see a larger image, click here.

Prints of this magnificent painting are available from Covos Books. The prints cost R33 plus postage and packing to the destination of your choice.

E mail Covos Books to order your copy of this superb art work. These superb posters are available now.

This painting, which Chas calls Africa's Child, was inspired by a photograph of the late L/Cpl Marius Marais of the Rhodesian Light Infantry. A giant of a man, with a surprisingly gentle heart, Marais was a legend in his unit where stories of his exploits abounded. He is depicted here with his favourite weapon - which he insisted on carrying even though his rank as a corporal entitled him to carry the much lighter FN-FAL rifle. Chris Cocks who served with him, says he used to throw his heavy MAG around as if it were a toy. His easy-going nature was caught by the camera in this image which was used by the Rhodesian Army in a recruiting poster. Marius Marais was killed in a car accident shortly after the war.

Chas points out that the poem and the picture complement each other; make an unapologetic statement about white Africans and establish one of the main themes for the poems in Echoes of an African War. This, and the fact that Corrie has produced a truly magnificent art work, is why the Africa's Child picture has been incorporated into the logo that appears on each page in this site.

Chas Lotter's poem, Africa's Child, the perfect mate to Corrie's art work, is printed below.



Africa's Child

It is two hundred eighty years now

Since Europe shook its fist

At my ancestor

And forced him to leave.

Since then

Generations of my clan have sunk their roots

Into the African soil

And proliferated.

My tribe woke a continent

And thrust it into tomorrow.

My Afrikaans forbears fought their wars

To buy their land with their blood.

As I have fought my war.

I belong

This is my land, my home.

I yearn not

For that strange, unfamiliar place called Europe.

I am an African

A white African.

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